Just The Start
by GirlquinndreameR
Summary: "You're really something, you know that, Ootori Kyouya? Six years ago, I met you and loved you. Now look at me." He made the trip strictly for business sake. Kyouya had no idea what he would take away from his weekend in Paris.


Just The Start

Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club

Fandom/Characters: Ootori Kyouya and Houshakuji Renge

Notes: Didn't think I would write these two again. However, I just came back from Paris (I encourage you all to go if possible. Bring a loved one!) and was inspired. My characterization is rusty, I admit.

References to the very late chapters of Ouran (the Spain stuff).

* * *

To say that Kyouya was excited to accompany his father, well, it was an understatement. His father had already allowed him in the dealings of their Japanese negotiations, so handling the European market was a new element. He even began to brush up on his foreign languages. He didn't need any practice with his English and German, but he did need a refresher in his Italian and French.

And Tamaki, sole heir to the Suou Empire, being the ever so helpful benevolent soul he was, called Kyouya every morning at seven and began a conversation with him, in full French. Kyouya wondered why every morning at eight, when he was actually fully conscious, he had found his cordless phone had been flung to the other side of the room.

Kyouya had received a call from his father one afternoon when he just finished his Ethics and Management class.

"You have vacation this weekend, correct?"

"Yes." He was slightly surprised he actually knew. Then again, he could have gotten that information with a little investigating. Runs in the family, he supposed.

"You will be accompanying me to Paris. We will leave this Thursday."

And that was how Kyouya ended up in the City of Lights. He arrived sometime in early afternoon, his body slightly disoriented from the time difference. They had checked-in to the hotel, two rooms at the top of a turn of the century corner building, just off the main drag of the Champs Elysees. When he was alone in his hotel room, he pulled open the curtains, revealing a balcony with sweeping views of the Seine, a large lush urban garden, and the Eiffel Tower in the not so far distance.

But he wasn't here to sightsee. Kyouya laid down on his bed and closed his eyes, but first turned the TV on to the BBC World Financial News.

* * *

He had been preparing himself since the plane ride. All the European associates were meeting for a luncheon cruise on the Seine, and he knew everyone's facts by heart: their names with a face, their family members, their company position, even political stand.

Their driver drove to the dock and dropped them off. It was a long white vessel, with a glass roof and a dining area for 70 people set in the middle of the ship, complete with white tablecloths and dark-stained wooden chairs. Servers scrambled around deck quickly, setting up any last minute forgotten objects, a wine glass here, a vase there.

The host, Houshakuji Reynard, was standing near the entrance, greeting everyone upon arrival. "Yoshio-san, how are you? And Kyouya-san, I'm very glad you could make it," he shook each man's hand, accompanied with a bow.

"Thank you for inviting us," the older Ootori nodded his head in return.

Kyouya said nothing, just smiled cordially and listened intently. However, a glimmer of light, perhaps sun reflecting off the water, caught his eye. He turned.

And there, right in sight, was a familiar face, a large pair of questioning amber eyes, pert nose and pink lips framed in long tawny light brown hair. She was speaking to someone and then turned her head ever so slightly to the right, catching him in her peripheral. She double-taked and her smile grew wider. Donned in a pink and grey Chanel dress suit, she excused herself from her companion and approached Kyouya confidently, almost gliding quickly across the floorboards.

"Kyouya-kun! I was hoping I'd see you!" Renge giggled. "Oh, it's been ages! Tell me, how are you? How was studying in America? How is everyone? Did that brain-dead Tamaki finally pop the question to Haruhi-kun yet?"

"Fine, good, great, and yes," he answered. "And how are you… Board Member Houshakuji, is it?"

"Now, now!" she shook her finger at him. "Junior Board Member. I still have a few more years of school left, and I'm only a junior member because of it."

"Well, then it's only a matter of time then."

"I'd like to think so," she smiled again. "Would you and your father like to join my father and me at our table?"

"We would be delighted."

As lunch progressed, he couldn't help but notice how there was something different about her. She wasn't the flighty, headstrong, puppy-love teen anymore. She was the twenty-one year old executive in training for the entertainment division of her father's company. At least at first, it seemed that way. Once she told him about all the show ideas she was trying to green-light (a game show about how well you know your lover, a scavenger hunt to win a date, costume and cosplay competitions, etc.), Kyouya saw glimmers of her youth.

It was a little comforting. Like himself, like Tamaki, like the whole Ouran Host Club, they still didn't drastically change. Not really. She just dressed to impress now.

"So, how well do you know Paris, Kyouya-kun?"

"Here and there. I haven't really seen the sights, if that's what you mean."

"When do you leave?"

"The day after tomorrow."

"Sunday?" she pouted, "That's so soon!" She glanced over to Yoshio, then back to Kyouya. "Do you and your father have any plans until then? Maybe I can show Kyouya-kun the sights?"

"I think it's a good idea," Yoshio answered, then looked over to Reynard. "What better way to experience the city than with a local?"

Kyouya re-adjusted the glasses on his face, settling it higher on his bridge. Seriously? He knew his father had meetings to attend tomorrow, meetings he wanted to sit in for. Wasn't that why he was here in the first place? And if he refused her, what would her father say? His father? "Thank you," he turned on his best cordial smile. "That's very kind of you."

"What are friends for? We can start after lunch!" she chimed, smiling to her herself, completely oblivious to the disappointment she caused.

* * *

Hours later, the boat docked. Kyouya pulled her seat out for her and she turned her head to him with a smile. They grabbed their scarves and coats from the coat check and bundled up against the Paris breezes.

"Let's go to the Louvre first," she insisted.

"Should we call a cab?" he pulled out his cellphone, ready to dial.

But Renge reached out to him and placed her hand over his phone, her fingers brushing his own. He looked down. "Oh no!" she said. "I like to be chauffeured around as much as the next rich girl, but Paris is first and foremost, a walking city. You'll miss things if you just drive by it."

So they began their trek through the city, through the Tuileries Gardens that sat in the center of town. People just lounging, basking in the sun, picnicking, enjoying one another's company… a completely different way of life, compared to the fast-pace-go-go-go mentality that was Tokyo. Didn't these people have somewhere to be? Work, even?

They exchanged stories of happenings from their four years since graduating Ouran. His studies in Boston, her studies in Dubai. His mission in Spain to help his brother's fiancee, her small business venture by being a millionaire matchmaker to her classmates in school. He didn't realized how fast time flew.

They arrived at the Louvre, and Kyouya was impressed. Not by the old 18th century palace facade countered with the modern glass Pyramid in dead center, but by her. Of course, she was a cultured educated young woman, who probably had an art history class here and there. But the way she spoke about some of the famous pieces, whether it was the Venus de Milo, The Mona Lisa or the Coronation of Napoleon, she knew the facts by heart. She even informed him on the Egyptian, Greek and a few Islamic antiquities that were displayed there.

"Honestly, you can't go through the museum front to back unless you have at least three days to spare," she told him as they walked in the crisp evening air. The Seine was bringing in a soft breeze; Kyouya adjusted his scarf closer to his chin.

As they continued walking along the riverbank, he noticed in the distance a few pedestrians crowding on a bridge. The bridge was littered with different colored metal along its span and tourists were standing around, taking pictures. "What is that?"

"Pont des Arts," she answered. "The Love-Lock Bridge. Well, one of them," and she added quickly, "Basically, you write your and your love's initials on a padlock and you make a wish. And then you toss the key, symbolizing your everlasting and unbreakable love. Sure, all those keys ruins the water, but this is Paris! The most romantic city in the world! People say the bridge is an eyesore, but how could a symbol of love be an eyesore?"

Sure, he silently bit, nevermind that the sheer weight of the locks may damage the infrastructure and integrity of the bridge.

They had called it a day after that. She phoned her chauffeur to pick them up and she dropped him off at his hotel. "Remember, I have you all day tomorrow, starting right after breakfast!"

"Ah," he responded and waved to her goodbye before entering the revolving doors of his hotel. As soon as he entered his hotel room, Kyouya immediately kicked off his shoes and rubbed the heels of his feet. Note to self, wear your good sneakers tomorrow, he told himself before getting ready for bed.

* * *

He had surprised himself by actually getting up very early to his own accord. He had a restless night, his sheets tangled and tumbled around his legs, but he had to force himself out of bed. He had a date in a little over an hour. Kyouya called for room service, having breakfast set out on his balcony as he got ready for the day.

His father must have been getting ready, too. Kyouya frowned.

By mid-morning, he was sitting in the lobby, dressed in dark denim, comfortable shoes and a casual button-down with a thick sport coat, complete with a scarf. He looked at his wristwatch. Nine a.m.

An ear piercing screech rang in his ear, causing him to look outside. She pulled up to the front of the hotel in a champagne gold Porsche, complete with a dark wood dashboard and white leather seats. This was a custom job, he noted in his head as he exited the doors and approached the car. "You should ride in style, right?" she smiled at him.

In one day, they hit a flurry of sights, and each time, she acted as the most entertaining and informed tour guide. They first stopped at Notre Dame ("And the priests unknowingly ate the meat pies! Made of people! True story!"), then the neighborhood of Montmartre ("Picasso was in this very studio!"), the Arc de Triomphe ("People marched here all the time! Napoleon, the Nazis, Charles de Gaulle… now the Tour de France!"), and finally to the top of the Eiffel Tower ("Half of Paris didn't like it and thought it was a monstrosity.")

It was his first time seeing Paris like this. He had visited the city before, only from ground level of course, but now, on a clear day, he could see the sights he just visited. There was a soft rose colored haze over the city (smog, he knew, but she told him to pretend it was a physical manifestation of love, seeing as it looked pink), making the sights look ethereal, almost magical. And a part of him appreciated it, being able to pinpoint the history and wonder of the city. All because of…

Kyouya looked up and noticed Renge standing a few feet in front of him, admiring a few locks that were fastened to the chainlink of the balcony. "Look," she gently pulled at the red lock in front of her, its words etched in gold. "These two put their lock up on Valentine's Day. Or they got married then. Either way, it's sweet."

She insisted that they get down right before dusk and head over to the other side of the Seine. They walked across the street, across a bridge and into the Trocadero Gardens, in direct line of sight to the Eiffel Tower. Other tourists sat and clamored around, taking pictures of the Tower as it glowed in an orange-yellow light. Renge took him by the hand and pulled him to the center of the courtyard so that he was in direct view of the landmark.

"Wait for it…" she whispered, her hand still clasped in his as she held his wrist up, his watch in view. "And…now!" The hour hit and then…

Kyouya continued looking at the orange-bathed tower. "Are you waiting for something?"

"Your watch is too fast!"

"It is not," he insisted. "It's in sync with my cell-"

A glimmer caught his eye and then another. Kyouya looked up to the Eiffel Tower and witnessed millions of glimmering blue lights illuminating the tower, as if the stars themselves danced across the structure, with a spotlight circling the skies at the summit. For a moment, he could feel his breath catch behind his teeth, his eyes widen and his mouth slightly open.

It really was a beautiful sight.

The warmth around his hand released. He looked up to see Renge leave his side momentarily, talk to a wandering souvenir vendor, only to come back with a small duplicate Eiffel Tower, also twinkling with tiny blue lights. "Here, for you," she told him and held it out, "So you have something to remember this trip by."

Tell him he was crazy, tell him he lost a moment of clarity, but the way the lights twinkled in her large eyes… Kyouya reached out to the tip of the souvenir and held it in his hand. "Are you ending the night now?"

She arched an eyebrow at him, a smile on her face. "Do you want to?"

He only smirked at her. "We haven't had dinner yet."

Her smile grew to a grin.

* * *

Maybe it was the fact that he wasn't much of a drinker. Maybe it was all the coffee he had been consuming in the last two days, making him slightly dehydrated. But after dinner and a few glasses of red wine, he felt like he was walking through a thick cloud.

She, being a raised Parisian, looked pretty damn sober. Renge held onto his hand as they pulled up to the front of his hotel. She dropped the keys off to the valet and helped him to the elevator. "The top, right?"

"Mm-hm," he nodded, leaning against the corner of the elevator room, his arm grasping on the side railing for balance.

She stepped up to him, and immediately his warm body felt just a touch warmer. She reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out his card key. She scanned the key against the card reader in the elevator, then pressed the top floor.

Renge hummed quietly to herself, tapping the card key on her other hand, all while Kyouya tried to stand with some sort of dignity. But he couldn't, he just couldn't. The elevator was tight, the lights were bright, and she was standing awfully close… His hand moved, as if it were on its own agenda, and reached for the end of her belt that tied her trench coat closed. He tugged it, just enough to get her attention and change her footing towards him. "You seem to be a lightweight," she noted fondly.

"I suppose so," he responded, his fingertips still gripping her belt.

The elevator doors pulled open and she took him by the hand once again. There were four doors in the hallway as soon as they stepped out. "Which one?" she asked.

He pointed to the far right and then cradled his head, forcing himself to focus. They entered his hotel room together, the curtains still drawn open to the midnight skyline of Paris. She slipped the card key into the electric slot but didn't bother turning on the lights; the moon and city lights were bright enough.

Meanwhile, Kyouya began to pull off some clothing. First, he kicked off his shoes and scooted them close to the bed, then he pulled off his coat, tossing it to the nearby couch. Immediately, he fell to the bed, back first, and then let out a muffled grunt. Too much alcohol, that must have been it, his head was swimming…

Her warm fingertips brushed his chin as she began to gently pull on his scarf. Immediately, Kyouya's hand shot up to hers and he held it in place, his eyes cracked open, staring at her.

Moonlight caught her lips and smiled at him. "Wearing a scarf while lying down would be uncomfortable, right?"

He let go, allowing her to unravel the fabric from his neck. She then pinched the bridge of his glasses and pulled it away from his face, setting them on his nearby nightstand.

Kyouya's consciousness was coming in and out with short bursts. He saw her leave his side, place his scarf with his coat, and proceeded to take off her own coat and scarf, revealing the creme blouse and tight jeans she was wearing underneath. She unzipped her knee high boots and set them aside before approaching him again. The mattress moved to her new weight and his head angled itself towards her. His eyes opened then closed, then opened again, trying to fight the feeling of lethargy.

All he could do was stare at Renge, and Kyouya couldn't help but notice how moonlight affected her. How her eyes were reflecting moonbeams, bright and shining, how her skin glowed, like an ancient marble statue. She lounged in front of him, her hand tucked under her head, supporting it up as she too was staring back at him. "You're really something, you know that, Ootori Kyouya?"

He raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"Six years ago, I met you and loved you." And then she released a long sigh, as if she was holding her breath, holding her thoughts for a long time. "Now look at me."

And he did look at her. Kyouya watched as she shifted her weight to her arms and pushed herself towards him. She locked eyes with him, waiting for him to say something, but when she received no protest, she leaned forward, and kissed him.

It took a moment to register in Kyouya's brain what was happening. But as soon as he did, he didn't push her away. In fact, he continued to let it happen. He closed his eyes, smelling her perfume, feeling her breath fan his cheeks, tasting her vanilla and alcohol scented lips. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, hard, like a drum pounding against his lungs, constricting his breathing just a bit to make him feel light-headed and slightly flushed.

When she pulled away, he opened his eyes, and watched a soft smile appear on her face. Renge leaned back and lied down on the bed beside him, not touching, but just close enough, her hands cradling her head on top of the pillow.

Kyouya blinked, then closed his eyes for a moment, then closed his eyes for a moment longer.

* * *

Morning sunbeams of orange and yellow began to peek over the skyline and into his balcony doors.

The memories were foggy, but bits and pieces were there. A brightly lit landmark. A delicious dinner. Lots and lots of alcohol.

Kyouya slowly opened his eyes and sat up. Still in his clothes from yesterday, he looked up and saw two jackets draped over the couch. He turned to the other side of the bed and saw Renge peacefully sleeping. She was breathing just slightly louder than normal, her hair mussed and about the pillows, her eyeliner slightly smudged on the right side.

The jet was due to leave in a little over two hours. Kyouya reached for her shoulder, waking her up. "Renge," he gently called. "Renge."

She stirred, then shivered, her eyes slowly opening. "Hey there," she greeted with a yawn and then slowly sat up. "What time is it?" she tugged her blouse so it sat straight on her torso.

"6:30."

That made her eyes pop open. "Uh oh! Didn't mean to stay that long.!" She immediately hopped out of bed and dashed to the bathroom, the clamor happening behind the closed door as the faucet rushed on.

As Renge freshened up in his hotel bathroom, Kyouya stared at the couch where their two coats laid. He actually felt… well rested, to be honest. He always thought alcohol would interrupt sleep or be a pain in the ass for a hangover the next morning. Maybe it was the fact that he was out all day that exhausted him, maybe, maybe… His eyes turned to her coat, right where the mini Eiffel Tower stood.

Maybe it was her. Please, a woman was responsible for his good night's sleep? And Renge, of all women?

Not to say that the past weekend hadn't been lovely. In fact, it had been far more enjoyable than he dared expected. She showed him different parts of the city, her own take on her hometown history, and then seeing the Eiffel Tower light up and sparkle… For a while, he had forgotten his father had meetings all day, meetings that he was looking forward to.

Now… well, he was glad he was given this other opportunity too.

The bathroom door opened and she sauntered in. "I better get going," she pulled on her boots quickly, then zipped them up closed. "Don't want to stay here too long. What if your dad finds out? Or my dad?" She picked up her coat and scarf, draping them over one arm, all while grabbing her purse with the other hand. "Don't be a stranger, neh, Kyouya-kun?" she said as she stepped up to him where he sat at the edge of the bed. "If you're ever in Paris again, give me a call. Au revoir," she leaned forward and gave him a kiss on each cheek.

Suddenly, he was hit with the soft smell of her perfume and it caused his brain jolt awake. His hand immediately reached out for her arm and he grabbed her, anchoring her in place, right in front of him, only a breath away. Her eyes widened in shock, and he stared back at them, memories replaying like a film reel.

Her warm breath. Her Coco Mademoiselle perfume. Her vanilla tasting lips. That's right, she kissed him. They kissed last night.

His heart began to beat faster, but slowly (and a tad reluctantly, he noticed), he let go of her arm. "Call me," and then he quickly added, "If you find yourself in Tokyo again."

She grinned, "I will. Bye then," and pulled away, walking out of the room.

Kyouya glanced around the hotel room as he heard the door close behind her. He couldn't help but note how… empty it felt.

* * *

Yoshio and Kyouya were packed and ready to go a few minutes earlier than expected. The chauffeur pulled up to the front of the hotel, loaded the luggage in the trunk, and were on their way.

As Kyouya sat in the back seat, he stared out the window and let the city landmarks unfold before him. Through the Champs Elysees, past the Arc de Triomphe in the distance, along the Seine, with the Eiffel Tower covered in haze, and the Louvre standing tall on the left side of the car.

And then he noticed they were approaching the Pont des Arts, the multicolored padlocks gleaming in the morning sun. "Stop the car!" his mouth ordered before he realized it.

The car pulled over to the side of the road, close to the mouth of the bridge.

"Kyouya," his dad narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Tachibana," Kyouya addressed the man in front on the passenger's side. "Do you have a permanent marker?"

"Uh…" Quickly, Tachibana opened his laptop briefcase and fished through the front pockets, pulling out a black Sharpie. "Here, Bocchama."

"Thank you," Kyouya plucked the pen from his hand. "I'll just be five minutes, Otou-san." He jumped out of the car and buttoned his jacket up. He approached the nearby vendor who was set up near the bridge, selling various sized locks. He quickly scanned the selection: brass, pink, heartshaped, red, circle… a square lavender lock caught his eye. "How much, Monsieur?"

"Five euros."

He gave the man a five euro bill and claimed the lavender lock. "Do you need to borrow a pen?" the vendor asked.

"No, thank you." Kyouya walked away with his newly acquired lock in hand. He combed the bridge, looking for a spot, any empty spot on the chainlink. He walked almost a quarter-ways down when he noticed a single gap near the bottom of the chainlink on the western side of the bridge. He crouched down in front of the newly found spot, popped open the pen and began to write on both faces of the lock. After he finished, he turned the key attached to the bottom, causing the lock to pop open. He weaved the lock's hook through the chainlink, gently pushing aside neighboring locks and then securely closed the lock with a click. He looked at it for a moment, satisfied and then quietly made his way back to the car, pocketing the key.

"What was that about?" his father asked when Kyouya entered the back seat.

"Something I had to do before I left."

The car started again, re-entering traffic and driving away.

_K.O._

_R.H._

_2014.04.04._

_May that day be just the start._


End file.
